Wonderwall
by sk8r-grl
Summary: I'm alive, mate. Weren't you listening?" Charlie laughed. features Charlie, Desmond, and Sawyer. i luv the combination of these characters!


Claire sat in his spot of the beach. She wore his shirt; she'd been wearing his clothes ever since it happened. She stroked his guitar as the wind bit through his clothes. He'd died. For her. She hated herself for that; for being the cause of someone's death. Let alone, the man she loved...Charlie dying for her. Her shoulders heaved as she cried, but no tears came from her blue eyes. She'd cried herself dry over the past two days. She fingered the ring that she now wore around her neck. Charlie's ring. She clutched it tightly in her fist as she mourned. When the doubt of Charlie's death faded, everyone had been trying to comfort her. Trying to ease her pain; they would talk about their losses and their solutions. Nobody ever talked about Charlie. No one except Desmond. And that's what Claire hated the most. That Charlie's final moments had been with _Desmond_. That Desmond hadn't brought back Charlie's body. She hated that Desmond had the courage to talk about Charlie at the funeral while she had just sobbed quietly. Claire was jealous of the Scot. She had beaten the crap out of him when he had returned and told her what had happened.

"You KNEW!" she had screeched, pounding him in the chest as hard as she could.

Desmond had staggered back, letting her beat him.

"You LET him die!" she had accused as tears poured from her eyes.

Claire sighed as she returned from her memories. Why had Charlie left her? Desmond had said that he knew, but Claire couldn't register why he would do that. Die for her. She let out another sob. It was hoarse and fractured, like a pair of rusty hands had ripped it from her very soul. She buried her head in her knees as she wailed. A tap on her shoulder startled her. She slowly raised her head, letting strands of hair fall into her eyes. She scowled upon seeing who it was. _Desmond_. She looked away from his pitiful face; she would never admit that she was jealous of him.

"Claire?" Desmond muttered quietly.

"_What_?" she snapped in return.

"Claire, I--I'm sorry about Charlie...He--he truly cared about you and the little one." Desmond stammered, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder.

Claire shrugged it off, turning to look at the Scot. She wanted to say 'thank you' or something nice. Her jealousy prevented her from any kind words. "Why didn't YOU die?" she snapped. It was a rhetorical question, Claire didn't really expect his answer.

"I offered to. I told Charlie that I would go down for him, but...he knocked me out." Desmond paused with a grim chuckle. "Guess he didn't think I was good enough for the job, eh?"

"What?" Claire muttered, looking at him with a new respect.

Desmond nodded. "He wanted to save you. He once told me that--"

"Charlie?" Claire muttered, staring behind Desmond into the jungle.

Desmond whipped his head around; praying that Charlie had somehow miraculously gotten free. His eyes widened upon spotting Charlie standing at the edge of the jungle. He was slumped over and dripping wet. The Scot breathed a quiet, "The hell?" before following Claire as she ran up to wards Charlie. But as soon as they got within ten feet of Charlie, he turned and sprinted off into the jungle. "Charlie?" Claire's cry echoed through the woods.

Claire followed the dark silhouette of Charlie. She was scraped and cut by grabbing tree branches. Claire still followed Charlie, crying out his name. She looked behind her for Desmond, but the Scottish prophet was gone. She had lost him about ten yards back. She whipped her head back around in time to see Charlie disappear and a deep trench appear in front of her. She skidded to a stop, looking into the deep trench's depths. Dark, jutting rocks and hissing snakes were at the bottom. Claire looked to the other side and saw Charlie's figure disappear into the shadows. She opened her mouth and used what was left of her voice to scream, "_CHAAAARRRLIEEEE_!!!"

Desmond had lost Claire a few yards back and was now wandering aimlessly through the foliage. Every few minutes he would call out Claire's name, but the only answer he received was the whistle of the wind. He suddenly heard the rustle of leaves a few feet in front of him. He looked up and saw Charlie's drenched figure emerge from the shrubs. Desmond smiled. "Charlie, brotha! Claire's been--" Desmond stopped when Charlie's form melted away. It was all a hallucination.

"Charlie?" Desmond asked quietly, taking a step to wards where Charlie had been.

Desmond looked around, but there was no trace of Charlie ever being there. Desmond lifted a foot and began tromping through the jungle. He had to warn Claire about the hallucination. "Claire!" he called, hearing his cry echo throughout the shadowy jungle.

"Over here, Des," her voice drifted back to him and he headed in the direction of it.

"Where'd you go?" he asked when he saw her.

She turned her head to look at him quizzically. "I was following Charlie." she replied, then pointed down into the trench.

"Oh," Desmond stated, looking over the edge. "What happened to...er, Charlie?"

"He, somehow, got across...I saw him running off into the woods."

"When did all this happen?"

"Why? I don't see--"

"When?!?" Desmond barked.

Claire sighed, murmuring, "About ten minutes ago...Why is that important?"

"I ran into Charlie, couple miles back." Desmond stated, pausing. "That happened about ten minutes ago, too."

"What are you saying? That there are CLONES running around the island?" Claire sarcastically snapped.

"No," Desmond breathed, "I don't think it was actually...Charlie. We were hallucinating."

Claire shook her head. "You didn't see him ten minutes ago. You're lying." Claire accused.

"No, I'm--"

"I SAW Charlie on the beach. And I know you saw him, too. You're just too scared to think he's okay."

"Claire, I'm not lying to ya'. It wasn't Charlie!" Desmond nearly shouted.

"Whatever. Look, I'm going back to the beach." Claire began to stomp back, but paused. She turned to look at the Scot. "I know what I saw." she hissed. With that, Claire whipped around and marched off to wards the beach. Leaving Desmond standing at the edge of the trench. Alone.

Desmond stood in the jungle for about a half-hour before exhaling huffily. Why didn't Claire believe him? His explanation seemed completely reasonable to him. Maybe that was it; to HIM it was rationable. To Claire it was insane, but so was her theory. A dead man rising from the dead and leaping across trenches did seem a little far-fetched, too. Desmond sighed, maybe he was going crazy. He had just seen a hallucination of a dead man...that would also make Claire crazy. She had seen him, too. Desmond slapped his palm to his brow. All this heavy thinking was giving him a killer headache. He decided to sit down and wait for his head's throbbing to pass before continuing. He and Claire had run a good few miles from the beach. It had taken up at least an hour to get out there--running! So, walking would be an even slower race. Desmond inspected his surroundings and spotted a fallen tree a few feet from him. He scooted over to wards it and sat in front of it. He leaned back on it, scooting around to get comfortable. When he was finally situated, Desmond closed his brown eyes. He let out a contented sigh before slowly drifting off to sleep.

Claire tromped back through the shrubs. The nerve of that man! Calling her insane when he, too, had seen Charlie! She released an angry breath and crossed her arms over her chest. She knew what she'd seen; Charlie was alive...somehow. She would've turned back around and tried to get over that trench if she didn't have Aaron to worry her. Claire let out a sob; Charlie had loved Aaron to bits. So many times she had kicked Charlie out, saying things like, "Get away from my baby!" and "I don't want a liar around Aaron!". Charlie had made a few small mistakes and she'd completely blown them out of proportion. Claire covered her face with her hand as she cried. 'Why did I have to be such a jerk?' she thought as she wept. She brought her hand back to her side and continued on. She had to tend to Aaron, make sure he was fed and changed. Kate probably hadn't cared to change or feed him; everyone knew how irresponsible she was. Claire had only left Aaron with the brunette to give Sun and Hurley a break. Claire heard the sound of waves, telling her she was close to the little community. She reached up to wipe her eyes, she didn't want any more sympathy. Especially not their lies about it "getting better with time." She knew it would never get better unless she found out the truth. Was she seeing things, or was Charlie alive and out there?

Desmond stirred and rolled to his side. He knew what had woken him up. He knew he heard it, but he refused to believe it. He covered his ears and scrunched his eyes closed as tightly as he could. But the sound didn't go away.

The sound was the soft strumming of guitar strings along with singing.

"And all the roads we 'ave to walk are wi-inding

And all the lights that light the way are bli-inding

There are many things that I'd like to say to yo-o-u

But I dunno h-o-o-o-w..."

Desmond's eyes shot open to see Charlie seated in front of him, playing that song. His guitar rested in his lap like it used to. He was cheekily smiling. Like he used to. And it was scaring Desmond; for Pete's sake, he'd witnessed this man's actual death (along with several visions of his deaths). Why was fate torturing him?!?! Desmond blinked--hard--multiple times, but Charlie was still sitting there in front of him. The Brit was now staring at him quite confusedly.

"You got something in your eye, Des?" Charlie asked, wearing his cocky smile.

"Nah, brotha...It's you." Desmond stammered.

"What about me?" Charlie questioned, giving himself a once-over.

"You're...here." Desmond sputtered.

"That I am." Charlie smiled stupidly. "You got a fever, mate?"

Desmond slowly shook his head.

"Then, what's wrong? You're acting a bit...odd."

"The Looking Glass burst." Desmond admitted sorrowfully.

"Right, that." Charlie murmured, looking down at his bare feet.

"I'm sorry, Charlie...I-I shouldn't have said that you HAD to die! You could'a made it! You could'a--"

"Slow down! What are you rambling about, mate? I COULD'A made it? It's starting to sound like you've given up on me!" Charlie chucked, plucking out the _Oasis_ melody again. He scampered to his feet. And began to sing as he walked off into the woods.

"And maybe-e-e-e

You're gonna be the one who saves me-e-e-e

And after a-a-a-a-ll

You're m-y-y wonde-e-r wa-a-a-all!"

"Wait!! Charlie? So you're...? You're...?" Desmond called to Charlie's back as he clambered to his feet.

"I'm alive, mate. Weren't you listening?" Charlie laughed. And with a quick wink, he turned and wandered into the jungle, strumming out the tune of "Wonder wall".

"And ma-a-aybe-e-e-e

You're gonna be the one that sa-a-aves me-e-e-e!" The musician's singing echoes throughout the foliage.

Desmond climbed to his feet. He ran to the beach. He ran faster than he'd ever run in his life. Charlie was alive!!! He had to tell Claire! He raced through the shrubbery when a thought struck him. Charlie was alive in The Looking Glass station. What if he got there too late to save him? Desmond quickly changed direction. He'd tell Claire when he and Charlie strode up the beach together. Right now, though, he had to save his only true friend.

Charlie sucked in another shallow breath. He shuddered and kicked his aching legs again, trying to stay above the water. His head dipped under the freezing water and he drifted down wards again. He kicked his legs a couple times to keep his mouth and nose above the water. He opened his eyes; the ice flaking from his eyelashes. He shivered again, releasing a quick breath. His breath turned to fog in the small air space. He knew that the air was limited, he'd been down there for, at least, two days. His head dipped down into the water another time. This time, he used his arms to paddle weakly to the surface. Another shallow breath entered his lungs, he released it slowly. The only thing he could do was try and breathe. And count. He was counting down the days until he would die...

Desmond ran down the shore, kicking up clumps of sand in his wake. He ran up to the small, wooden boat. He placed his hands on it and began to shove it out into the water. Suddenly, he heard his name being called. He looked up and saw Sawyer striding up to him. Desmond sighed; he didn't have time for Sawyer's crap. Desmond stood up, waiting as Sawyer approached him. He saw the Southerner looking at the boat, figuring out what to say. Probably something cocky.

"So, are we decidin' to take up fishin'?" Sawyer sneered.

Desmond sighed. "Go away, Sawyer. I've gotta go." Desmond stated, his tone serious.

Sawyer's sneer disappeared as he pried, "Why? What's goin' on?"

"Charlie," Desmond stated, looking Sawyer in the eye. "I think he's alive."

Sawyer's eyebrows rose. "How do you know that?"

"I have...visions."

"Visions?"

"Yeah, that's how I knew Charlie would drown." Desmond muttered.

Sawyer held up a hand, stopping Desmond. "Wait, wait...You KNEW?"

"Don't worry, brotha'. I told him beforehand." Desmond stated, quieting Sawyer's accusations.

"So, you had a vision that he was alive? How?" Sawyer quizzed.

Desmond shook his head. "I had a dream...Charlie told me he was alive."

Sawyer nodded. "Let's go save the hero, then." he smiled.

Desmond nodded, grateful that he had some company. Although it wasn't the most polite company, he was still thanking God in Heaven for it. He and Sawyer gripped the boat's wooden hull and shoved it into the ocean. Both jumped in after the water was up to their knees. Desmond instructed Sawyer to help pull the boat along with the cord that led to the Dharma station. Sawyer rolled his eyes, scoffing, "You don't say, Sherlock?" Desmond brushed off his comment and grabbed the cord. He began pulling, as did Sawyer. They were on their way. Desmond was curious, though. Sawyer hadn't offered to go and save Jack when Kate and the other men had gone. Sawyer hadn't seemed to care when Claire had begun to cough up blood. Why, all of the sudden, did the southern hick care so much about Charlie? Desmond turned to ask Sawyer, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He turned back around, muttering, "Never mind."

"What is it, Desmundo?" Sawyer asked gruffly.

"Nothing, brotha'. It was nothing." Desmond brushed it away.

Sawyer wouldn't let it go, though. "C'mon, brother." Sawyer pleaded, mocking the Scotsman's accent. "Tell me."

"It's just..." Desmond paused. "Why do you care so much about Charlie?"

"Who says I care about the little hobbit?" Sawyer snapped, masking his feelings.

"When Kate, Sayid, and Locke went after Jack you didn't go. And when--"

"I'm just bored right now!! I finished all my books...Damn it, why'd I even come with you?!?!"

Desmond sighed. "You're lying."

"Fine. Me and Chuckie are kinda friends. Back awhile ago, Claire kicked him out because of heroin."

"What?"

An I-know-something-you-don't-know smile crossed Sawyer's face. "Ah, guess he didn't tell ya, then?"

Desmond blinked.

"Well, after she kicked him out, he kidnapped her baby. Sayin' he had to 'baptize it' or somethin'. Anyway, after that, he was an outcast, like me." Sawyer explained. "And the runt helped me with one of my cons."

"Con?" Desmond quizzed.

"Long story," Sawyer smiled. "That's why I care about him. Don't act so surprised." he hissed.

Desmond nodded before turning back around. The two quietly pulled the boat along. Suddenly, Desmond had no more cord to grab onto. They were there. Desmond and Sawyer exchanged grave looks. They both leaned over the boat, squinting into the dark water to see The Looking Glass.

Claire fell onto her bed. She had finally put Aaron to sleep. She laid on her back, staring at the starlit sky through the holes in her tarp. She sniffed, remembering how she would tell Charlie about the constellations. She released a sob, rolling onto her stomach. She hugged Aaron's bjorn close, breathing in Charlie's smell. The scent was growing weaker every day. Claire could barely smell it now. It smelled like sea salt and sun, barely sprinkled with cologne. He had poured what was left of his cologne on all his clothes to "keep them at least _smelling_ clean". She released another sob, tears falling onto the Bjorn's fabric. She mourned his death, not caring about everyone's sympathetic stares and concerned whispers.

She glared at Charlie's guitar. It lied on it's back in the floor. She picked it up, knowing that Charlie would never play it again. She held it in her lap, stroking it. "Why did he leave me?" she asked the instrument. It remained silent. She knew that it couldn't talk. It was an inanimate object. She wept into it, tears hitting its wooden body and slipping into its hollow inside.

Desmond released a shaky sigh, slipping off his tennis-shoes. He unbuttoned his shirt with quivering hands. He heard a plunk behind him and saw Sawyer was removing his boots and shirt as well. Desmond shook his head. "You don't have to go down there, brotha'." he told the man.

Sawyer nodded, but replied, "I'm goin', Lassie. You might have some trouble gettin' Timmy outta that well."

Desmond lightly chuckled at the comparison. He pulled his button-up shirt off and stood up. He turned to Sawyer; the southern man was just throwing his shirt down. Sawyer stood, looking at Desmond with intensity. "You sure he's alive?" Sawyer asked. Desmond barely nodded. He looked down into the dark water, up at the twinkling stars, then back to Sawyer. "Follow me," he instructed. Desmond waited for Sawyer to nod. When he did, Desmond dove into the cold water. Sawyer wasn't far behind.

Desmond kicked his legs furiously before grabbing onto the cord. He pulled himself down wards to the station. Every now and then, he would look behind himself to see if Sawyer was still with him. He released the cord, finally, and swam up under the station. He felt around for a few seconds before spotting the opening. He swam up to it, checking that Sawyer wasn't far behind. Then, he swam up into the station. His head rose out of the water and he gasped in air. Sawyer's head came up next along with the southerner's coughing. Desmond paddled to the ladder and pulled himself up onto the platform. He reached out a hand for Sawyer, but Sawyer didn't take his help. Sawyer stood up beside Desmond. He curiously looked around the underwater station. His gaze fell upon the two dead bodies. The man's eyes flicked between them. He brought his gaze back up to Desmond, raising an eyebrow. Desmond waved his hand, muttering, "Mikhail,". Sawyer wasn't satisfied with this name, which he didn't know, but nodded anyway. Desmond looked at the door to the computer room. His gaze stayed fixed on it as he quietly stood there. Sawyer followed the Scot's gaze to the door. The southerner raised an eyebrow upon seeing the room filled up with water. Sawyer got a quick shiver down his spine.

"That where he is?" Sawyer asked Desmond.

Desmond grimly nodded. He walked to wards it slowly, feeling Sawyer's gaze follow him. Desmond walked up to the window, memories flashing before his eyes.

_"Penny? Penny?" he yelled, running to wards the door._

Desmond was inches from the door now. He felt tears welling up in his chocolate-brown eyes.

_Charlie frantically jerked the door closed in his face. Desmond beat on the door angrily, watching Charlie nervously lock it. "Open the bleeding door! Charlie! Open--" Desmond shouted before seeing Mikhail through the porthole--with a grenade._

Desmond's foot hit something on the ground. It clanked and rolled into the door. Desmond glanced down at it. It was a fire extinguisher.

_Desmond looked around the station and spotted the extinguisher on the wall. He grabbed it and pounded on the glass of the porthole. "CHARLIE!!" he yelled, watching the room quickly fill up with water._

Desmond closed his eyes, touching the cool glass. He heard Sawyer walking up behind him.

_Desmond read what Charlie wrote on his hand. Then, he placed his fingertips against the glass where Charlie's hand was pressed. Charlie nodded, barely smiling at him. Then, he pushed himself away from the window. As he floated away, he did the symbol of the cross._

Sawyer placed a hand on Desmond's shoulder. "You alright, Desmond?" he asked quietly.

Desmond looked at Sawyer with a nod before looking in through the window. He didn't see Charlie right away...and that scared him. He ran a hand through his wet hair. "Where is he?" he feverishly murmured. Sawyer shrugged. Suddenly, a body floated downwards into the water. Both men jumped. They saw it was Charlie. Their faces softened; he was dead. Suddenly, Charlie's feet barely kicked and he was up again. "Son of a bitch," Sawyer incrediously uttered, looking up to see Charlie floating near the surface. There seemed to be a small air pocket up there. Sawyer and Desmond exchanged excited looks before slapping high-fives. Sawyer's smile faded as a thought occurred to him.

"How're we gonna git him outta there?" he asked.

"I'll go under and swim through the window. Then, I'll pull him out." Desmond answered simply.

"No offense, but can you really hold your breath that long?" Sawyer questioned the plan.

"I think so," Desmond confidently nodded.

Desmond turned and walked over to the lockers across the station. He swung them open and pulled out some snorkeling gear. He smirked back at Sawyer. The southerner rolled his eyes, turning to look back through the glass. Desmond pulled on the mask before hooking it up to the oxygen tank. He pulled the goggles over his eyes and waved to Sawyer's back before plunging into the moon pool.

He breathed through the snorkel and swam out from under the station. He paddled up to a side of it, searching for the porthole, but couldn't find it. He furrowed his brow. Then, he swam to another side of the Dharma station. He smiled when he saw the blasted-open porthole. Desmond gripped the edges, cutting his hand on a small shard of broken glass. He pulled his hand back quickly, inspecting the cut. It wasn't too deep. He carefully gripped the side of the porthole and shimmied through. He gave Sawyer a thumbs-up through the other window before swimming up to where Charlie floated. Desmond hit his head as he surfaced. There was only a thin sheet of air in one small part of the room. The only reason it hadn't filled up with water was because it was raised a bit higher than the rest of the room's ceiling. Desmond pulled his snorkel out of his mouth and rested the goggles on his brow. He watched Charlie weakly turn to look at him. The young musician's lips were blue and quivering noticeably. Desmond's eyebrows knitted together in concern. Charlie's eyes fluttered open, flakes of ice falling from his lashes and landing in the water. Charlie's eyes barely registered confused shock before they slowly closed. Desmond grew worried and splashed Charlie's face. The young man winced and coughed. Desmond took off the oxygen tank, dipping below the water briefly. He swam back up, careful not to hit his head again. He gripped Charlie's arm and strapped the tank to the freezing man's back. He inserted the mask into Charlie's mouth. The Scot pulled the goggles over his own eyes, took a few long, deep breaths, and dove under. He pulled Charlie with him and pushed the Brit through the porthole before himself. When he squeezed through, he grabbed hold of Charlie around his chest and swam quickly under the Looking Glass. He swam as fast as he could to the moon pool as he felt his lungs burning. He pushed Charlie up before he surfaced.

"Take him," he gasped to Sawyer, who had been waiting by the edge of the moon pool.

Sawyer nodded, waiting as Desmond swam Charlie over to the edge. Sawyer took Charlie by his arms, lifting him out of the water. He carefully laid Charlie on the platform as Desmond crawled out of the water. Desmond helped Sawyer remove the oxygen tank and mask from Charlie's unconscious form. Sawyer frowned at all the cuts and bruises on Charlie's face. Desmond lifted Charlie's wrist and took his pulse. His breath caught, he couldn't feel one. He waited for a minute and finally detected a _very_ weak pulse. He sighed with relief; Charlie had a pulse. A weak one, but, all the same, a pulse. Desmond leaned back on his haunches, inspecting Charlie. Ice crystals were present in his eyebrows, eyelashes, and on the tips of his hair. Desmond decided to make sure if Charlie had hypothermia or not.

He lightly slapped the side of Charlie's face. Charlie weakly moved his head to the side. Desmond began to ask, "Charlie, you awake?"

Charlie was silent. Desmond watched Charlie shiver and stood. Sawyer climbed to his feet, too.

"I'm going to go and try and find him some blankets, okay?" he told Sawyer. "Watch him. If he wakes up, try and be nice. Make him comfortable."

"What are you? A doctor?" Sawyer sneered.

"No, I was in the army, though." Desmond chuckled.

"Alright, Sergeant Jack, I'll watch him." Sawyer teased, sitting back down.

Desmond nodded, striding past the moon pool to another door. He swallowed nervously before jerking it open. It squeaked on its hinges; the noise creepily echoed through the station. Desmond stepped through the doorway into a room somewhat like Dharma's 'The Swann' station. He looked at a shelf-full of books and records. He wandered into a small, closet-like space and found racks of clothes--both men's and women's. He grabbed a beanie-cap, shirt, and pair of jeans that looked about Charlie's size before continuing his search for blankets. He saw two bunk-beds and approached them. He released a thankful breath--there were blankets. He stripped the cots of the blankets, piling them in his arms with the clothing. He walked out of that area and back to where Sawyer was with Charlie. Des looked over the mountain of supplies he had and approached the two. Sawyer raised an eyebrow. He glanced over everything.

"I thought only one guy drowned, is there another?" he sarcastically asked.

Desmond laughed lightly before growing serious again. "His clothes are wet--" he began.

"So are mine." Sawyer butt in with a cheeky grin.

Desmond continued, "If he stays wet, he'll begin to experience hypothermia. He's already showing a few symptoms."

"Like what?"

"Like shivering, confusion, low body temperature, and he's got a slow, weak pulse...Those are practically ALL the symptoms, mate."

Sawyer's face grew solemn. "What are we supposed to change him into? Last I checked, those bodies were girls'. We gonna put him in a nice, blue sun-dress?"

"There were men's clothes, too, brotha'." Desmond sighed, chunking the clean shirt and beanie-cap at Sawyer. The two changed Charlie's clothing before bundling him up in the blankets.

"Now what?" Sawyer asked.

"Well, in his condition, he wouldn't be able to hold his breath too long. So, we'll stay here until morning." Desmond stated, looking around the station with a brisk nod.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. "Where're we gonna sleep?" he asked.

"There are a pair o' bunks in the other room." Desmond pointed out, rising to his feet. "Could ya' help me with him?" he asked, gesturing to Charlie.

"Yeah," Sawyer sighed.

Sawyer began to lift Charlie vertically, but Desmond shouted at him to stop. Sawyer set Charlie down, looking ready to punch Desmond.

"What now?" he asked with annoyance.

"If you lift him vertically, he might go through shock." Demond snapped.

Sawyer sighed and nodded. Then, the two of them picked up Charlie's frail body and carried it into the other room. Desmond led them to the first bunk. They set Charlie on the bottom before claiming their own bunks. Sawyer immediately checked out what kind of food was in the pantry and fridge. Meanwhile, Desmond took off his sopping shirt and pants and changed into a rather large pair of pants and a blue shirt. Luckily, the shirt was his size. When he came out of the small closet, he had to laugh. Sawyer had piles of Dharma chip bags, bean dip, and beer cans on and around his bottom bunk. Desmond walked over to Sawyer, cinching up his belt. Sawyer lifted a can of Dharma beer in a salute to Desmond before downing the rest of it. He offered the Scot a can. Desmond declined, he'd spent too many days on that blasted island drunk. To hell if he got started again. Sawyer shrugged and announced, "More for me, then." Desmond smiled, jabbing a thumb to wards the closet.

"There's more men's clothes if you wanna change," he offered.

Sawyer stood. "I think I will." he smiled, crushing a beer can. He attempted to throw it in the trash across the room. He missed. He muttered a few curse words at the can before walking to the closet.

Sawyer came back in tye-dye t-shirt and boot-cut jeans. Desmond snickered. "Shut up, Beevus." Sawyer sneered, climbing into his bunk.

"Beevus?" Desmond questioned.

"From "Beevus and Butthead"." Sawyer explained.

Desmond blinked. "What?"

"It's a show...Don't they have television in Ireland?" Sawyer sighed.

"I'm from Scotland, brotha'."

"Who gives a damn?"

Desmond scowled; it was pointless to try and talk to this man. Desmond turned onto his side on the top bunk. He rested his head on the pillow and fell asleep before Sawyer could strike up another conversation.

Claire woke up mid-dream. She shot up in bed, looking around; she thought she had heard someone calling her name. She warily looked all around her hut before standing. She tip-toed over to Aaron's crib and sighed, he was still asleep. She started back to her cot when she heard someone whispering behind her. She turned around and saw Charlie standing in the doorway of her hut. "Charlie?" she asked, a smile tickling her lips. He just stared at her before whispering something she couldn't understand. He turned and walked out of her hut.

"Charlie?" she squeaked, wandering out of her hut.

Charlie was disappearing into the jungle now. Claire slowly followed him, but stopped at the jungle's edge. She looked back at Aaron's crib. She let out a remorseful sigh. She couldn't leave Aaron alone. Not at night. She walked away from the treeline and back into her hut. She would go looking for Charlie tomorrow morning. She yawned and nodded. Then, she laid down and fell asleep.

"Desmond?!?! DESMOND!!! Damnit, wake UP!!" Sawyer's frantic voice aroused the Scot from his dreamless slumber.

"What?" Desmond groggily murmured, sitting up in bed.

"Charlie's shakin' again!! Do you think there's some meds down here...or...?" Sawyer worriedly asked, pointing to Charlie's cot.

Desmond looked below his cot and sighed; Charlie was shivering again. Desmond uttered, "Bloody hell,"

Desmond leaped off his cot, shouting for Sawyer to get a thermometer. The southerner did as he was told and rummaged through all the pantries and shelves before he found one. Desmond grabbed it from Sawyer's hand and shook it until it was at ninety-six degrees fahrenheit. Desmond quickly stuck it in Charlie's mouth under his tongue. He made sure it stayed in place before turning to Sawyer. "Medicine," he uttered.

"What?" Sawyer asked.

"Help me find some medicine, Sawyer!" Desmond commanded, rushing around.

Sawyer nodded and went to the shelf he'd found the thermometer in. He smiled, shouting, "Found some."

"Aye, me, too," Desmond called from the fridge.

Desmond left the medicine and hurried back to Charlie. He carefully took the thermometer out of the Brit's mouth. He read it, murmuring, "No, no, no..."

"What?" Sawyer asked, setting aside the medicine bottles he'd pulled from the cabinet.

"It's eighty degrees! It's bloody eighty!!" Desmond wailed, tossing the thermometer aside. "Sawyer! Try and find heat pads or...ANYTHING!!"

Sawyer nodded, but only returned with heated rice and a cloth.

"What the bleeding hell is that?!?"

Sawyer explained that he had heated up the rice and it was just like a heat-pack. Desmond nodded and carefully placed the rice and cloth behind Charlie's neck and on his stomach. Desmond sat back on his haunches and stared at Charlie's body.

"Now what do we do?" Sawyer cautiously asked.

"We wait," Desmond sighed, reaching over and grabbing himself a beer can. He popped the top and poured the liquid down his throat.

Claire ran through the jungle. Charlie was only inches in front of her. She laughed as he took her hand and pulled her along. She intertwined her fingers with his and frolicked after him. He turned and smiled at her before turning to pull back a few tree branches. Claire gaped upon seeing the other side. It was a beautiful picnic with boar, passion fruit, and peanut butter. Claire wrapped Charlie in a huge hug before walking up to the picnic site. Butterflies danced in the air around her head and she smiled up into the sun. She looked at Charlie and his smile was no longer pleasant, but maniacle. He approached her slowly.

"Charlie?" she curiosly asked.

Suddenly, the picnic turned into a rocky cliff. The butterflies disappeared and the sun was covered up with clouds. She looked up at the sky as it began raining hard. She squinted through the sheets of rain at Charlie. She saw him slowly change before her eyes. It wan't Charlie anymore. It was Ethan. Claire's breath caught in her throat. Ethan stepped closer and Claire stepped back, but felt her foot go off the edge. She heard a rock crumble off the cliff and fall into the depths of the ocean. She yelped, turning back to look at Ethan. He had advanced to wards her. She shivered under his melevolant glare. She felt tears in her eyes. He cackled.

"First, I killed Charlie. Now, I'm gonna have to kill you." he laughed, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"No..." Claire squeaked.

Ethan pressed his hands on her shoulders, then, he pushed. As hard as he could. Claire was sent flying off the edge.

Claire screamed.

Jack, Juliette, Kate, Sun, Jin, Sayid, and Hurley were suddenly gathered around her tent. Claire's screaming had woken all of them. They were all worriedly huddled around Claire's tent as she shot up in her cot. Her screams faded when she saw everyone around her hut. She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. She wished Charlie could be there to hold her and usher everyone away. Slowly, Jack sat beside her on her cot. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

Claire sobbed. "I miss Charlie," she wept, wrapping her arms around Jack.

Everyone looked down, grim expressions on their faces. Kate felt tears rolling down her own cheeks. Juliette was weeping beside her and Sun was hugging Jin tightly. Sayid swallowed the lump building in his throat. He had been in the Republican Gaurd; he wouldn't let people see him cry. Jack muttered comforting words to Claire before she cried herself to sleep. Jack carefully laid her down. He looked at his feet sadly before exiting her tent. Hurley muttered a quiet, "Dude," before lumbering back to his lean-to. Everyone went back to their huts, all saddened and depressed.

Desmond and Sawyer stayed up well into the night. Just waiting to see if Charlie would make it or not. Sawyer finally called it a night and laid back on his bottom bunk. Desmond sighed, sitting on the floor. He watched Charlie, leaning back on Sawyer's cot. His eyes drooped closed. He tried to keep them open, but they continued to flutter closed. Soon, the sand-man got to him. His head rocked forwards. He was asleep in a matter of seconds. Sawyer and Desmond slept for at least an hour. Then, Desmond slowly woke up. He heard mumbled words quietly being spoken. The Scot rubbed his eyes with a yawn and brushed the hair out of his face. He lifted his head and turned to look at Sawyer. The southerner was beginning to wake up, too. Desmond looked from Sawyer to Charlie. His eyes widened and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Charlie was softly muttering something in his sleep. Desmond jumped to his feet, stepping on an empty bag of Sawyer's chips. The crunching of the bag woke Sawyer up the rest of the way. Sawyer's head slowly rose from his pillow and he squinted at Desmond.

"He's talking, brotha'!!" Desmond jubilously proclaimed.

Sawyer sat up in bed, he didn't have to ask 'who'. "What's he sayin'?"

Desmond shrugged and knelt beside Charlie's bunk. He listened to the Englishman's soft mutterings. His heart stopped when he realized what Charlie was muttering. He looked at Sawyer with horror in his eyes. Sawyer glanced at Charlie before leaning in to listen. He heard and slowly sat back on his bunk. They both stared at Charlie as he spoke in his sleep.

Charlie spoke these words in a mantra: "Kill me...please...it was...for Claire...?"

Sawyer looked up at the ceiling as Charlie's cries grew louder. Desmond put his head in his hands as Charlie began to toss and turn. Desmond walked to another cabinet and rummaged through it until he found a couple bottles of wine. He brought them over to where he'd been sitting. He set one aside and took the other. He bit the cork and ripped it out of the bottle. Desmond spat the cork across the room and brought the bottle to his lips. He guzzled down the wine as Charlie wept his plea now. Desmond looked at Sawyer and saw the southern man's eyes were fixed on Charlie. Sawyer's eyes were full of sorrow and pity for Charlie. He picked up another beer can and popped the top. He poured the alcohol down his throat. For the next two hours, Desmond and Sawyer got drunk. They sadly listened to Charlie's crying. There was nothing else they could do for him.

"...Please...for...Claire?"

Desmond woke up to silence. He'd either passed out from alcohol intake or gotten sleepy. He couldn't recall which it was. He did remember Charlie's plea, though. He lifted his head and winced at the overhead light. He had a hangover, so he must have been asleep for at least an hour or so. He squinted to see Charlie had quieted and was now sleeping soundly on the bottom bunk. Desmond looked behind him for Sawyer, but the con-man wasn't in his bunk. Desmond staggered to his feet and slumped around the station. He called for Sawyer, but no answer came. Desmond walked into the other room. The foul smell of death greeted Desmond's nostrils, causing him to gag. He found Sawyer seated beside the lockers--with a harpoon gun in his hand. Desmond cautiously approached Sawyer.

"What're ya' doing with that, Sawyer?" he carefully asked.

Sawyer shook his head. "Nothin', hero,"

"Then...Why d'ya have that?"

Sawyer glared at the Scotsman; he wouldn't let it go. "Because," he muttered.

"Sawyer, who were you gonna use it on?" Desmond snapped; the lights and loudness of their voices hurt his head. But he HAD to know.

"Charlie," Sawyer murmured guiltily.

"WHAT?!?!" Desmond yelped.

"I couldn't take it. He just got LOUDER..." Sawyer grumbled, looking at the harpoon.

"So, you were just going to KILL him?!?"

Sawyer was silent. He stared at the weapon, turning it in his hands. It glinted from the overhead lights.

"You're a bloody savage!! You were gonna KILL him!!!"

"It's not like you haven't thought of it!!!" Sawyer shouted.

Desmond grew silent, recalling how he had almost let Charlie be shot by an arrow. The image made him wince.

They both were silent in that room; guilt haunting their every breath. The two dead girls' bodies reminding them of what they had almost done. To their friend. To Charlie. Finally, it was Sawyer who spoke up.

"You know," he muttered, "it's not like I enjoy killing people..."

Desmond listened quietly.

"I've killed before...and I hated it." Sawyer rambled. His lips drunkly flapped on about revenge, his parents, bla, bla, bla...

Suddenly, he was silenced by Desmond lifting a hand. He'd heard a soft noise. It was hard to hear over Sawyer's ranting and the splashing water in the moon pool. But Desmond heard it. It was a quiet groan from the bunk room. Desmond smiled, grabbing the gun from Sawyer's hands. Sawyer shouted out in protest, but Desmond tossed the weapon into the moon pool. It sank like a brick. Sawyer stood up, angered, but mostly confused. "What the hell was that for?!?" he exclaimed, standing over Desmond.

Desmond's smile was still plastered on his face. "Charlie...He's gonna make it!!" he predicted.

He raced into the bunk room, leaving Sawyer to stare stupidly at the door. Desmond rushed up to Charlie's bunk to see the Brit's eyes fluttering open.

Charlie woke up with a small groan. Wait. Wasn't he dead? He sighed, letting his eyes flutter open. He looked around and immediately saw Desmond grinning down at him. Charlie released a small laugh. He should've known Desmond had saved him. He probably had one of his visions. Charlie tried to sit up, but Desmond pushed him back down. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

The first three words from his mouth weren't about himself, though. The first three words he spoke were: "How's Claire doing?"

Desmond laughed. "She misses ya'."

Charlie sighed, "Well, how'd you know how to find me? Vision?"

"Dream. You told me you were alive." Desmond grinned. He couldn't stop smiling.

Suddenly Sawyer's loud mouth-from-the-south startled them both. "Well, I see Chuckles made it."

"Sawyer's here?" Charlie questioned.

Sawyer approached Desmond's side, asking, "What kind of friend do ya' think I am? 'Course I'm here."

Charlie smiled.

Claire sat on her bed, pulling Charlie's jacket around her shoulders. She watched the sun creep up over the water. She buried her head in her hands and sighed. Aaron had kept her awake most of the night. He had been screaming and crying. He KNEW Charlie was gone. She looked at Aaron's cradle and sighed. The baby had fallen asleep only a few minutes ago. She laid back on her cot and pulled Charlie's shirt up to her. She hugged it close as she fell asleep.

Charlie slowly stood, his legs shook and threatened to give out from underneath him. He smiled as he took a step and didn't fall. He immediately went into the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips. He scarfed them down. Next, he attacked three Apollo Bars. He walked around the station a bit more before his stomach lurched. After having no food for two days and then, eating such rich food had upset his stomach. He raced to a trash can and vomitted up all he'd just eaten. Charlie wiped his mouth with his arm. He stood up, moaning and holding his stomach.

"You alright, brotha'?" Desmond's voice came from behind him.

"Fine," Charlie stammered, turning to face the Scot. "I just ate too much."

Desmond nodded, handing Charlie an oxygen tank and mask. "Get ready to go," he commanded.

"We leaving so soon?" Charlie asked, strapping the oxygen tank to his back. He followed Desmond into the room with the moon pool. Sawyer was already waiting in there.

"Well, you need a check-up with Jack. I'm no doctor." Desmond replied.

"Great, I had an ammeature and Sawyer prescribe my meds." Charlie sarcastically laughed.

"At least it wasn't Hurley." Sawyer teased. "He'd get laxatives and cough syrup mixed up."

Charlie pulled a face. "You've got a sick sense of humor." he gagged. "And right now, my stomach and I are on the outs."

Desmond chuckled. "Ready?" he questioned.

Charlie nodded, placing the mask over his mouth and nose.

"Let's go," Sawyer smiled, jumping into the moon pool.

Desmond and Charlie followed. They swam out from under the station and up to the surface. Luckily, their boat hadn't drifted away; the cord had held it back. Sawyer and Desmond clambered into the boat. They reached over the side and pulled Charlie up into the small boat's hull. Charlie's teeth were chattering already from being exposed to water. Sawyer and Desmond let Charlie sit back while they pulled the boat in to shore. Charlie shivered in his wet clothing as the warm, pacific wind blew in his face. Desmond worriedly looked back at Charlie. The Scot motioned for Sawyer to pull faster. They hurriedly tugged on the cable, jerking the boat to wards shore.

Claire laid in bed, silent. She stared up at the ceiling through puffy, red eyes. She refused to speak to anyone since her late-night cries. She turned her head to look at Aaron's cradle as the baby whimpered. She sat up, reaching over and picked up Aaron. He cooed quietly. She nursed him, then slowly rocked him. She stared out at the ocean absent-mindedly. Aaron tugged at her blonde hair. She sighed, taking her hair and throwing it behind her shoulders. Claire watched the waves roll in, hoping that she would see Charlie swimming up any minute. Claire looked down at Aaron and saw the baby looking around, as if he was searching for someone. Claire let out a quiet sob; usually Charlie would be here at this time so she could go for a walk. Claire shifted Aaron in her arms, holding in her tears.

Charlie staggered up onto the beach with a laugh. He dropped to his knees and picked up handfuls of sand, letting the small grains slip through his shivering fingers. He felt his eyes pooling with tears. He smiled up at Desmond and Sawyer. The two were watching him with triumphant grins. Charlie sucked in his tears, rising to his feet. He enveloped the two in a grateful hug. "Thank you," he faltered through chattering teeth. Desmond patted Charlie's shoulder.

"No problem, Shorty." Sawyer teased.

Charlie, Desmond, and Sawyer turned to wards the beach. Charlie felt tears spill over his cheeks. He thought he would never see this place again. He looked back at Desmond with gratitude. Desmond humbly smiled back. "C'mon, brotha', let's get you home." Desmond smiled.

Sawyer nodded, chuckling, "Yeah, you'd better hurry, too. Without you, Claire's probably a mess."

Charlie looked at Sawyer, but the southerner wasn't joking. "You think so?" Charlie asked.

"We know so." Desmond answered. "The lass slapped me across the face for returnin' without you."

Sawyer laughed at the Scot.

Charlie smiled and they started to wards the small community.

Claire laid Aaron in his crib when he finally fell asleep. She looked over at Charlie's suitcase and burst out in hysterical sobs. She covered her face with her hands. She fell to her knees in front of the luggage. She grew angry and picked up handfuls of his clothes. She threw them out across the beach, screaming, "You didn't ask if this was what I wanted!!!" People had stopped their morning routines to stare pityingly at Claire. Then, they ran across the beach, past her hut. Claire ignored them.

Claire grabbed another handful of Charlie's things. She threw them with all her might. "Why did you do this to me?!?!" she cried, gathering another handful of his things. "Why did you leave me?!?!" Claire shrieked.

Charlie got to the edge of the camp and immediately looked at Claire's tent. He paused, taking in the sight. Suddenly, she fell to her knees in the sand, weeping loudly. Charlie quietly approached as people stared at Claire's tent. Suddenly a large mass of his clothes flew out of her hut. Charlie scrunched up his brow as she yelled, "You didn't ask if this was what I wanted!!!" He looked back at Desmond and Sawyer. Sawyer nodded, whispering, "She's been like this since you died." The southerner walked to wards the water cache, gaining a few peoples' attention. Where had he been all night? They looked to where Desmond was and saw Charlie. They rushed past Claire's tent to him. Charlie hugged Hurley and Sayid before weakly pushing his way out of the mob. Everyone fell silent as he quietly approached Claire's hut. She was still "unpacking" his things. Charlie leaned up against a pole that held the tarp over her hut to quietly watch her.

"How could you leave me?!?!" Claire shrieked, throwing his things. "How could you?" her scream morphed into a sob.

"Well, if it helps, I'll move my own stuff out, love." a familiar voice entered Claire's ears.

She turned around and saw Charlie casually leaning against her hut, eyeing his belongings strewn across the beach. A crowd was standing a few feet behind him, their eyes fixed to them like they were watching a movie. Claire stood, tears pouring from her eyes. She wondered if she was hallucinating again. She cautiously approached Charlie, tentatively reaching out to touch him. Charlie stood there quietly, a small smile on his face. He let Claire gently stroke his cheek. She cried when she touched skin. It was Charlie! Claire placed both hands on either side of his face. He used all his strength to lift her by her waist. She pulled his face to hers and they kissed a long, passionate kiss. Charlie let his tongue dip into her mouth and savored the flavor. Claire tasted like papayas. Claire ran her hands through Charlie's wet hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and holding him close to her.

The crowd behind them clapped and cheered. Charlie and Claire continued to kiss; unfazed by their spectators. Charlie slowly set Claire back down. They came up for air, staring into each others eyes. Charlie softly kissed Claire again. Claire took her hands from Charlie's hair, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest. Charlie held her, whispering into her hair that he would never leave her again.

"I love you, Charlie," Claire softly sobbed.

"I love you, too," he quietly whispered in her ear. "Love you, too,"


End file.
